


Come Home

by sarah_x



Series: The Stolen Isle [1]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-06 02:50:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12808017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarah_x/pseuds/sarah_x
Summary: After the death of a friend, Remy turns to the Thieves Guild for a sense of purpose. Fantomex arrives to remind him what's important.





	Come Home

The girl that entered the meeting room was no older than sixteen. Her voice wobbled when she addressed the room, “Pardon the intrusion but we, uh, caught him, sir. The intruder. He was sneaking around the chalets just as Ajna predicted.”

A hush fell over the room when shouting had been a real possibility only moments before. Remy exchanged a look with his father, then nodded to the girl. The girl ran to the doors and opened them. No less than three men marched in, dragging a man in chains by the arms. They were in various states of injury, their leader wiping blood from his nose with the back of his hand as he entered the room. Remy stared at the man in chains. He recognized the suit and duster immediately. White leather covered in black, zig-zag lines. Fantomex.

The quiet didn’t last much longer. A murmurer of recognition spread through the room followed by expressions of distaste, even disgust. The men forced Fantomex to kneel at Remy’s feet, hands clamping down on his shoulders and arms to still him. Fantomex gazed up at Remy and by the way the fabric of his mask stretched over his mouth, Remy could tell he was grinning.

The leader of the men, a giant of a man, spoke to Remy with a snarl on his face, “Bastard killed two of my finest men and broke my fucking nose. What do you suppose we do about that?”

Remy was only half-listening. He was watching Fantomex. Fantomex was unusually quiet, blue eyes patient, as if waiting for Remy to act. The Guild wanted an execution, he was sure, or perhaps some painful punishment. Fantomex represented everything the Guild hated in a thief: all arrogance, no honour. Or so they thought.

“Leave us be.” Remy hummed in answer. The leader’s face turned bright red.

“Remy-” His dad started. Jean-Luc’s tone was an attempt at the stern parent voice he had perfected years ago. Had Remy still been ten, it might have worked.

The leader glared at him, “Guildmaster, you can’t-”

“ _Oui._ I am the Guildmaster. I make the decisions ‘round here,” Remy fixed the man with a predatory smile, “Or are you forgetting who you’re speakin’ to?”

The man opened his mouth, shut it again. For a moment, Remy thought he might pick a fight. The man was not as stupid as he looked. He nodded, and his two companions turned and left the room, the thieves who had been in the meeting room earlier filing out with them. His dad paused, looked between Remy and Fantomex.

He placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, “Think with your head and not your heart this time. That’s all I ask, boy.”

The words brought a frown to his face. He was certain Fantomex had heard them, too. The old thief gave him one final nod of goodbye before leaving the room with the others. The door shut with a thud that echoed through the wide room. Neither of them spoke.

“You can stop the captured prisoner act, _mon ami,_ ” Remy said, breaking the silence, “Ain’t no one around but you and me.”

Fantomex shrugged off the chains as easily as taking off a coat. “Gads! I might have offed myself had that little charade gone on any longer.”

Fantomex toyed with his wrist, stretching and working out the kinks in his muscles, babbling the whole while, “Oh, but where are my manners? I did not realize I was in presence of royalty.”

“King of thieves,” Fantomex laughed, shaking his head. Fantomex reached forward, caught his fingers. Remy closed his eyes at the touch, memories playing behind his eyelids. When he opened them, Fantomex had rolled his mask up to reveal a mocking smile and placed a kiss on his hand, “How blessed I am to be in your presence, _votre Majesté_.”

He kept a loose hold on Fantomex’s hand after he’d kissed him, then withdrew his hand. The side of Remy’s mouth quirked into a half-smile, “I liked you better when you were tied up.”

“Haven’t you always.”

They were both smiling then. Even with his mouth revealed, Remy could tell by the way Fantomex’s eyes narrowed at the edges. He was much better at reading Fantomex than the man would ever give him credit for. He already knew the answer to his question when he asked, “Why are you here, Jean-Phillipe?”

“You know why,” Fantomex replied, sobering, “You disappeared for months. Got your friends worried you were dead.”

“Bet you were hopin’ that were the case.”

“Actually no,” Fantomex frowned at him, but didn’t sound surprised, “Contrary to popular belief, I have a heart.”

A warm breeze came from the open balcony, sea air blown in from the Mediterranean. The Stolen Isle was alive at night, filled with the drunken revelry of the Guild. Remy closed his eyes against the night, felt the wind on his face and the buzz from the houses below. He waited.

He didn’t have to wait long. Fantomex wrapped his arms around him, one around his chest to grip the collar of his trenchcoat, the other found its way around his waist, pulling him close. Remy hugged him back as much as he could, hands grasping onto the arm around his chest. When he had first met the man, he never would have pegged him for a hugger.

“I know what you lost,” Fantomex’s voice was a whisper in his ear, strained with something like sympathy, “What you went through. And I’m… I’m sorry. That I couldn’t be there for you.”

“Our friend died,” Remy said achingly, as if he needed the reminder, “Died saving me.”

“I know.”

Remy turned his face to meet him, Fantomex’s exposed lips a tempting offer. He hesitated a moment too long. Fantomex unravelled himself, hands easing back as he let go of Remy, settling for a warm hand on his shoulder.

“They didn’t send Rogue after me?” There was sadness in the question but also resignation.

“ _Non._ She wanted to come,” Fantomex explained, “Miss Pryde decided she was too attached. So they sent me.”

“Because you’re less attached?”

“Their mistake,” Fantomex said, his voice gentle, “I don’t expect she’s very far behind me, though. The three of us on this little island. A quaint little _ménage à trois_ , wouldn’t you agree?”

“Don’t be getting lewd on me now.”

“Like you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“Didn’t say that.”

Their repartee may have been sound as ever, but Remy wasn’t ready to go back with him. To re-join the X-Men. The Guild was as fragile as ever. They needed him here. “So, you’re a lapdog of the X-Men now? Come to fetch me back?”

“This isn’t about them,” Fantomex replied, annoyance creeping into his tone, “It’s about you. Stop these foolish playground games and come _home._ ”

“ _Home?_ ” Remy laughed, his voice a little hysterical, “Home where? The Mansion? Your bed? _Non,_ I have no home, save the one my father built.” He gestured out across the balcony at the beautiful island.

Fantomex looked unimpressed, “Hiding here is cowardice.”

“You callin’ me a coward,” Remy bit back, “ _You?_ ”

“I called your behaviour cowardice,” Fantomex replied, “Behaviour can be changed.”

Fantomex was ever the wordsmith but he’d pushed too far. Remy shoved Fantomex’s hand off his shoulder, caught Fantomex by the lapel of his coat. His hand around the fabric glowed a soft pink of warning but Remy restrained himself from charging up the duster. “You come ta’ my turf, kill two of ma’ people and then call me a coward and expect me to run off with ya? You’re lucky I didn’t leave your sorry ass for those guards to kick the shit out of.”

“They wouldn’t have stood a chance,” Fantomex’s face was the picture of apathy, at least towards Remy’s show of aggression, “I am the best, after all.  And despite what you think about my methods, all I care about is making sure you’re _safe._ ”

Remy read his masked face for signs of deceit. Infuriatingly impassive blue eyes gave him nothing. He let Fantomex go, pushing him away. “No such thing as safe in our world. You should know as much. Now go.”

Fantomex didn’t respond. He stood with his white gloved hands rolled into fists, body tensing for a fight. “I promised the X-Men I would bring you back with me.”

“Then break it,” Remy said bluntly, “You do it all the time, _non?_ ”

A tight-lipped smile formed on Fantomex’s face, “Well then. It seems I have no other choice.”

Remy’s hands slipped slyly into his pocket, fingering the pack of playing cards. The broken part of him yearned for a fight with Fantomex. If he couldn’t get Fantomex on his hands and knees, muscles on his back tight and defined with pleasure as he fucked him, then he would take Fantomex taut and ready for a fight.

The swing he expected to come didn’t. Instead, Fantomex smirked at him, “It appears I’ll be staying, then.”

“ _What?_ ”

“I hear the Stolen Isle is quite stunning this time of year,” Fantomex replied, smile growing with Remy’s confusion, “Now, what does a man have to do to get a glass of wine around here?”


End file.
